


ambrosia

by newsbypostcard



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oneshot, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4933783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsbypostcard/pseuds/newsbypostcard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaidan and Shepard return to her quarters after their night at the casino. The formal wear comes off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ambrosia

**Author's Note:**

> small fic dump from my drafts. i wrote this months and months ago but never finished it because i was trying for a specific concept that wound up being fleshed out in [another fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4860164), so then i just had this wee pwp.

* * *

  


Shepard is talking. Shepard is talking _to_ him in the sort of way that requires a response, but Shepard is also wearing nothing but her undergarments, and Kaidan is too transfixed by this image -- of Shepard, without her dress but having so obviously recently worn one, the shape of her legs so sculpted by the line of her stockings -- to answer.

“Kaidan?” she asks; he snaps his eyes up to meet hers. “Are you listening?”

He licks his lips; swallows. “No.”

But she is posing for him, in her way, with fists balled at her hips and her weight shifted to one side -- so he guesses she had already suspected as much. 

“Would you like to start?” she asks.

Kaidan shakes his head and pulls off his dress blazer, peeling it off his arms and tossing it to the side at the same time that he falls to his knees before her. 

“No,” he says again.

Kaidan grasps gently at Shepard’s hips and navigates her perpendicular, leaning her against the desk, so that her ass rests partially upon its surface and partially against its edge. “Oh,” she says only -- then, as Kaidan’s fingers sink firmly into her thighs and he leans in to set his lips almost too gently against the heat of her sex, “ _oh_.”

He looks up at her, along the line of her body from where he’s seated on his knees before her, and mouths over the fabric of her undergarments, intoxicated by the taste of her, thin though it is through the textile. “You are,” he rumbles, then pauses to close his lips over her clit, “you taste--” 

But he’s interrupted by Shepard’s hand on the back of his head, and if he’d intended to finish either of those sentences, he’s forgotten by the time his lips meet warmth again.

It’s this that Kaidan has missed the most. 

He could fill books with the sex he’s imagined having with Shepard if they ever reunited, and the repertoire is vast. He returns with consistency, for example, to burying himself deep into Shepard in her quarters, on the bed, on her desk, in the shower, on the lift aboard the Normandy, atop a crate in the cargo bay, on the sofas in the observation bays -- and lord knows he’s stored away no shortage of mental images of Shepard on top, her hair coming loose from its tie and tumbling over her shoulders as she rides him into sweet oblivion, her fingers pressed hard against his chest as though holding him down so as to better use him as a tool for her release.

They had by now lost themselves in one another a small handful of times, and none of the occasions had disappointed; to have Shepard in the flesh, beneath him, atop him, around him, had predictably significantly improved upon fantasy. There are things he either hadn’t remembered or hadn’t experienced the first time around -- the sounds of her breath; the depth of her moans -- and now that he finally has his chance to make it up to her for Horizon, he intends to do it properly, all selfish motives aside.

_This_ was something else entirely -- the taste of Shepard’s arousal; the way her hand holds him in place at the same time that it cards through his hair; the way she tenses, first, then quivers as he moves her underwear to the side and sucks her between his lips. In spite of having had no shortage of material, it is _this_ that he thought about most often -- to fall at her feet and to be of service; to be held in place as he gave her what she needed; to hear her breaths turn to moans and then to stuttered phrases as she keened and moved against him in pursuit of release--

It is among his greatest pleasures.

“Kaidan,” she says throatily, warningly, as his fingers hook under the hem of her lingerie -- only to grasp, unmoving, at her hip.

“Yes, Commander?” he murmurs. He flicks his tongue against her clitoris once, twice, a third time; and her thighs quake beside him, exquisite in their vulnerability.

Shepard’s next word is lost in a huff of desire. “ _Please_ ,” she manages, after a moment.

The smirk is fleeting on Kaidan’s face, but by the way she sighs above him, she felt it anyway. “All in good time, Shepard,” he says, and moves to press his lips against her once more.

After all -- after all that’s passed between them; at last -- they have all the time in the world.

  


* * *


End file.
